Back to school
AN: Okay guys, I'll admit it, I was about to abandon this story until… well I couldn't deny it. I'm still on writers block. So, I'd like you guys to enjoy it. Thank you all for being interested in the story. It's been so long!
ANN: I should rewrite this because I've aged this so much that I think the writing's pretty bad.
ANN: I have no excuse anymore… Happy Holidays….
ANNN: It's nearly 2014, barely four chapters… blasphemy… people are becoming uneasy, as I type this, I'm writing an excerptish draft.
Harry spent the next two weeks getting his stuff together, rucksacks and his battered trunk. His notebook with yellowed pages was halfway filled, his favorite pen which ran out of ink, wedged in the rusty spiraled metals, he got all of this together. His broken quills and empty ink bottles had to be thrown away; he tucked his new books into his trunk. It was realized that this was the first time since the first day of school in his first years that he emptied his trunk. Oddly enough there was an odd odor. Harry sniffed the air and wrinkled his nose. The invisibility cloak that kept him mostly alive on Isla Sorna was tucked into his rucksack. After continuing to clean the rest of his trunk he dragged it next to the door, ready for the delicately planned arrival. He was nervous. Harry sat on the bed and opened his notebook he got up, realizing that he had no pen in the vicinity. He went down to the living room where Sirius was lazily residing in.
"Harry," He said, a brief smile graced his weary features, "What'd you need?" Harry flushed a little with embarrassment; he tightened his hold on the notebook.
"I need a quill,"
Sirius' smile grew wider; he stood without a response to Harry and went over to a small room which was his office. He then came back after a moment of being gone and handed Harry an ink well and a white feather quill.
"Thank you," Harry said and he turned to the stairs, Sirius patted him on the back. He went back to his room and sat at the small wooden desk opening his notebook the last few pages open. He swathed the nib in ink and poised over the page. It was a realization that he had nothing to write. A lot of his interesting experiences happened on Isla Sorna, when Stegosaurus gracefully moved through thick jungle and Brontosaurus tugged leaves off of the tallest of trees. He already wrote down what he did every day for that long. He went into the small backpack he found and pulled out the two maps he had and the journal of Henry Wu as he flipped through the journal as small piece of folded paper fell out of the book. Strange, he didn't notice it before; it must have been stuck in the pages pretty strongly. Harry unfolded the small piece of paper and saw tiny print of lines and lines of what he assumes is code:
It kept going on in fine print for the entire page when it was fully unfolded, eleven by eight inches. Harry whistled and folded the page back up. He realized that he made a bleeding spot in the page of inky black.
Sorry there, he wrote, but I found a page full of code, it has to be code there are no other letters but CTAUG. It's a lot of code, I wonder what it means. There are no other clues to Isla Nublar and Sorna but the maps, the code and the journal.
Harry flipped the blank pages to the hard back. There, was a scribble of what appeared to be handwriting:
Three workmen, dead before visitors.
Death toll uncountable after visitors.
What?! A death toll in Isla Nublar? This park, this assumed children's playground had an uncountable death toll? Harry cursed, he should've collected more documents on the matter.
As the mystery of the two Island's connectivity unraveled, the days before he had to go back to Hogwarts came closer. Harry got increasingly nervous. Four days, two days, one day did the days get closer. He sunk into his bed, dreading to have to come face to face with hordes of students young and old. To him, he'd rather face the dinosaurs that were bent on killing him. His eyes fluttered closed, he wanted to forget everything.
Harry's head fell against the thick trunk of the tree. He wanted to catch his breath, the raptors below jumped and snapped angrily at the base of the trunk. This happened way too many times already, they see him, and they chase him. They can sense that he has some sort of power or something. Why do raptors have to be so persistent?!
Let's hope they realize at one point, not to mess with him.
Harry's eyes opened, he sighed. He was getting increasingly tired of the dreams he was having to the point that he just didn't have the energy to go into a fit anymore. It worried Sirius, and in the back of Harry's mind it worried Harry.
The world weary boy rolled over and found that he was still used to checking for a time on the alarm clock. He looked up at the grandfather clock in the corner and rubbed his eyes wearily. He could not see in the dark without his glasses. The clock read six. Probably in the morning, he'll rise by nine.
Nine came way too quickly, Sirius was already rousing him from sleep, way to hyped up for someone who didn't look like a morning person. The trunk was already packed, the rucksack ready to go. Sirius handed Harry some toast (made by Kreacher….?) and stood him in front of a Fireplace.
"You are familiar with floo, no?" Sirius asked, he ruffled Harry's hair affectionately and Harry nodded.
Sirius handed Harry an exquisite tin box filled with green dust.
"You know what to do, just say 'Dumbledore's Office'," Harry clenched a handful of dust and tossed it into the fire. The fireplace flared to life, Harry stepped inside, flames warm and pleasant to him.
"Dumbledore's Office!" Harry cried. Soon enough, in a whirl of green flame he was off- then shooting out of the fireplace covered in soot.
Floo is definitely not a pleasant way to travel, Harry though grimly, dusting himself off and standing up. Albus Dumbledore was standing before him, eyes twinkling to no end, wearing a periwinkle robe, a smile on his bearded face.
"It's good to see you again Harry," Dumbledore said- Harry felt unease coax the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. Something felt wrong, very wrong.
"Good to see you again too… professor," Harry said absently, attempting to identify the source of his unease. Dumbledore blinked and smiled again, this time a bit too strongly for Harry's taste.
"Why don't we reintroduce you to the rest of the student body? We have much to talk about after you get reacquainted with Gryffindor house," Harry turned, almost robotically, unable to think or feel something properly. He went over to the oak doors and once he got out of Dumbledore's office, he felt the tiniest sort of relief. Down the stairs he went, where he was face to face with Professor McGonagall who looked just as he remembered. It felt like forever since he met the woman. Her hair in a bun, her expression strict, her robes were emerald she was wearing a pointed hat.
"Mr. Potter," She greeted tightly, "I will accompany you to the Gryffindor Common room," Much to his surprise no one questioned why he was here all of a sudden and what happened to him ever since the Daily Prophet kindly declared him dead. Harry barely remembered how to get to Gryffindor common room, because soon he was in front of none other than the fat lady.
"Mimbelus Mimbletonia," McGonagall said, the door swung open and the moment he stepped inside the students looked up. Harry looked around and found no one even vaguely familiar. They must all be first years. Huh.
Footsteps going down from the Dormitories to the common room… those footsteps belonged to Fred and George Weasley. They looked the same as ever, with shocks of red hair and brown eyes. Harry could not tell the difference.
"Is that…?" Fred (or George) began.
"Harry?" There were excited yells and arms were around him, hugging, squeezing Harry tightly. Harry was very uncomfortable. McGonagall smiled tighter than ever and said,
"I'm going to have you guide Mr. Potter the rest of the way around Hogwarts while I fetch his timetable," With a flourish of her robes and cloak she was off. Fred and George were talking a mile a minute as they walked down to the Great Hall, shooting off questions that ended into nothingness.
"Where were you?"
"Why did the Prophet say you were dead?"
"You're looking a bit pale,"
"There's a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher," That's nothing new.
"She's a real witch I'll tell you. She refuses to teach us magic, she believes in theory," Well that's not good.
"Ron was worried sick about you Harry, to the point he got himself a fever over the summer," ummm.
"Hermione was batty the whole time, went on a whole journey to find out what happened to you," I guess that's sweet of her. Fred, George and Harry were at the Great Hall doors. They pushed said doors open and heads turned. On emergency autopilot Harry sat between Fred and George nearby a very sickly looking Ron and a more frazzled Hermione. Whispers began to rise, Harry was becoming nervous again. He reached for a fork and speared some eggs, attempting to distract himself from the obvious attention he was getting. Harry did not notice that Fred has gone over to talk to the two weary teenagers. Once again, the hairs on the back of Harry's neck were standing up again; unease began to nestle into his stomach. Then he was tackled none too softly by an octopus of arms. He was dragged to his feet, panic was flooding his senses. There were several yelps and much to his relief he was released.
"Harry!" Ron Weasley was staring at him like some lost puppy dog with his red hair and freckles and gangly appearance. Once again Ron hugged him as tightly as Fred and George, but twenty times as longer
Hermione hugged him as well, his face being buried in soft bushy brown hair. He could have sword he heard Hermione sniffle.
"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione said once she let go of him, she straightened out Harry's collar, "You look peaky, and your hair's a mess!"
He could not believe that Hermione was fussing over him like this.
"Hermione, don't fuss over me- I'm fine,"
"where were you?" She demanded shrilly, people were starting to stare.
"I was away way too long," Harry answered wearily, "I'm… glad to be back,"
"Everything was a mess when you were gone mate," Ron said, "people were looking for you, how'd you get back on the radar?"
"Later," Harry said as he sat down between Ron and Hermione, "I'm nervous and famished and I don't exactly feel like talking right now, I'll explain everything much later. Does that sound okay to you?"
Hermione and Ron seemed uncertain about agreeing, but slowly they both nodded. He smiled widely and went for the cereal, the eggs and the bacon.
"Thank you for understanding,"
All that time, the stares slowly faded and Harry was at a certain nirvana. He was waiting, waiting for the disaster to come- because there always was disaster. Not one thought about Isla Sorna arose. Harry was happy.
AN: Hallelujah! Fourth chapter finished! Merry Late Christmas present I hope you guys are happy!
See my profile for more info on the state of this story!